The world around me feels decaying
stifled full of Life and green.
Leaves on stems on moss on grass:
A mass, a wait of years it seems.
The reign is over,
mist lighter than my shadow, shallow
when drops from tree tops are thicker, heavy with expectance.
I move as they fall, their energy is mine.
The Thunder left them quivering, He will be back in time.
‘til then I roll and duck, and die,
as in my imagination trees collapse and
roll themselves to paper and bound I draw my last: A scene
beyond idyllic, the canvas captured quick, a scene
with no-one in it, their lives would ruin it.